Who

Evka, Brayden(NPC)

What

BACK-SCENE: Takes place the night of Steps Forward. Evka goes on a date with Brayden and rediscovers things she thought long dead and buried. It's a step further forward for a woman who's been guarded and alone for a very long time.

Light Snogging

When

-- On Pern --
It is 6:30 PM where you are.
It is the first day of the second month of the sixteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Southern:
It is sunset on the thirty-first day of Summer and 99 degrees.


Where

Southern Weyr, Tipsy Kitten, Beach

OOC Date 27 Jan 2019 07:00

 

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“Careful, brownrider. I just might like it!”


tavern.jpg

The Tipsy Kitten

Here there be drunkards: a marble bar and the gorgeous array of colored bottles behind it would be enough to draw them in, but more yet lures those to enjoy the recreation the Kitten has to offer. Windows allow light to naturally illuminate the first floor of the tavern in the daytime, while green-tinted glows shine after nightfall. A door behind the bar leads to the tiny kitchen, while a stairway leads above to the rooms available for rent. Among the hubbub and the ruckus, a calamity of tables scatter through the open space, plenty enough for dragonpoker tournaments on restday eve.



Despite it being the busiest time of day at the Tipsy Kitten, Brayden has managed to leverage his Harper charms, such as they are, to procure a more secluded booth away from the bulk of the noise and activity. A date with drinks in an spot where one doesn’t have to raise one’s voice to have a conversation - how novel! But it’s completely to Brayden’s satisfaction, a candle lit upon the table, a platter of meats and cheeses and savory crackers already in place, and a folio with some of his art sitting at the ready without being distracting.

The man himself is standing halfway between the entrance and the bar, easily seen as he waits. Dark hair combed back and stubble neatly trimmed, there is no doubt that he cuts a dashing figure in a long, fitted vest of forest green brocade with subtle copper undertones, a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled, and black trousers and boots, all tailored to show off his strapping shape. A sash of deep Harper blue silk is cinched around his waist, the ends hanging down over his left hip adorned with shimmering azure fringe. There are several gazes that linger upon him as he hovers, but he notices none, his ears pricked for any interesting conversations around him…and his eyes trained upon the door for sight of a certain dark-eyed brownrider, even when it seems he might only be watching in his periphery.

Evka won’t keep Brayden waiting long. She’s soon pushing through the swinging door of the Kitten, kohl lined, klah brown eyes searching even as she takes her first steps in. Her sienna and chestnut colored hair hangs loose in luxurious waves around her, dark against the pale rose hued silver of her dress. It’s a silky affair, her dress, one that clings to her form as if painted to her. A thin belt of sapphire blue wraps around her waist, the buckle a burnished bronze. Thin sandals adorn her feet and her wrists are home to several thin silver bangles.

Her lips spread in a warm smile when they land on Brayden and she makes her way through the crowd to greet him. “Good evening Harper Brayden. I hope it finds you well?” Evka warms to the situation, glad to find that she can still remember basic social skills.

Whatever Brayden may be attempting to do to pass what little time he waits, or to distract himself from making that time seem longer, it all comes to a complete standstill when Evka enters. How can he keep from staring, considering the vision she presents - a completely different but no less dazzling facet of the woman he’d met only candlemarks ago? He straightens as she approaches, dropping the hands previously clasped behind his back, unable to keep the distinct spark of admiring heat from his gaze as it takes her in from head to toe and back again.

“It…finds me very well, my lady Evka,” he finally replies upon remembering how to speak, which doesn’t take him too long, fortunately. He bows deeply, rising and taking a deep, slow breath. “You look…absolutely stunning.” It’s said with a blush, as though he isn’t used to being so plain with his thoughts but simply can’t help himself in this moment. “As though embraced by a mirage touched by sunset.”

Evka had forgotten what it was like to have a man stare at her that way. It brings a deep shade of rose to her cheeks as Brayden greets her and bows. His compliments only serve to deepen the blush. “Thank you. You cut a pretty stunning figure yourself, sir Harper.” She levels her gaze with his, and the heat in her cheeks is slightly mirrored in her eyes. “Were we lucky enough to catch a good spot?” She raises an eyebrow in question and doesn’t look around because she can feel the eyes of those watching and it ticks her nerves a bit.

The shy edge to Brayden seems to ease a bit as he observes Evka’s reaction to his attentions thus far. Her return compliment deepens his own blush. Perhaps the man is not incredibly practiced at all of this. However, that bit of mirrored heat that he observes in her eyes serves to bolster his confidence. “I can only hope to serve as a humble counterpoint to you,” he says, and offers his arm. “I’ve gotten us a spot that I think will serve well.” He’ll lead them back to the quiet booth then, handing her off to settle in her seat before claiming his own. The candle still flickers there, the platter of appetizers awaits, and his folio is in place, all to his satisfaction. “I hope this works?” he asks as a server sweeps over to take their drink orders, prompting him to gesture to her to go first.

Evka doesn’t quite know how to take all these compliments, so she nods, blushing, feeling a bit like a fool for being so…blushy. She takes his offered arm and follows to the booth, nodding emphatically when he asks if it works. “Aye, what a nice little corner. I’m used to being closer to the front.” When the server asks after their drinks, Evka orders a straight whiskey, the northern kind, if they have it. And as luck would have it (Thanks Z’bor!), they do. It causes a fully blossomed smile to run across her lips, one that has the waiter returning one in kind.

There are many changes in coloration going on between them, and Evka isn’t the only one feeling a little silly for it. But it’s something Brayden has never been able to escape from, and he certainly won’t be able to in her company, all things considered. When she orders her whiskey and smiles the way she does, his own goes a bit dopey for a moment before he remembers he needs to order as well. “I’ll have the same,” he says, and winds up ordering a second appetizer in the form of a creamy wherry dip and flatbread. The server leaves, allowing him to turn his attention completely upon her once more. “I’m sorry for turning your cheeks red so much,” he tells her a bit abashedly, his expression earnest. “It’s just that…I have not come across a woman so striking in all my life. And while I know very well that beauty is not what defines a woman…it is certainly the hook that pulls me closer, wishing to learn what more lies beneath.”

Evka smirks at Brayden when he orders the whiskey, that one earned him bonus points. She takes a look at the food already on the table and smiles when the Harper orders more. Quite prepared this one, it’s endearing. She plucks a piece of cheese up and nibbles on it until the waiter makes his way to the bar. Brayden’s next has yet another tinge of pink rising to the surface, but Evka shakes her head. “It’s alright. Honestly, it’s been nice, it’s been a long time since someone has taken notice.” Brayden’s last has that pink turning rose and Evka looks down. “Well, there’s plenty to learn if you wish, though…” She shakes her head. None of that, she says to herself, along with a mental reminder from her brown. “I’m honored to think you have such a high opinion of me already.” She smiles again, going back to nibbling her cheese and looking at Brayden from beneath her eyelashes, suddenly a bit shy herself.

“There must be many blind people here to not have noticed,” Brayden says, his brow furrowing slightly with honest surprise. His smile warms when Evka mentions there being plenty to learn, but he notes the way she trails off and tries to hold her gaze more squarely despite the way she peers at him from beneath dark lashes. That almost makes him forget what he means to say next, but he manages to hold onto it by a thread. “Only what you allow me to learn, Evka,” he assures her quietly. “I would never want to pry, no matter how curious I am.”

To her last, he gives a little grin before sipping at the water that sits near at hand. “How could I not think highly of another artist? You with your dance, and I with my singing… There is music to both, and music tends to pull people together more than most things, in my experience.”

Whiskey being a fairly simple thing to serve up, their drinks arrive in just a few moments. Brayden nods his thanks to the server, who departs again. The Harper lifts his glass between them, peering at Evka over the rim with a glint in his gaze. “To music, and to beauty. May we always find it wherever we wander.”

“I appreciate that.” Evka says of Brayden not prying, that earns him more brownie points. When the whiskey arrives she smiles at what the man has to say about artists, and raises her glass his in toast. “To music and beauty.” She sips from her glass and nibbles the cheese a bit more before her eyes land on his folio. “Is that your work there? May I see?”

Brayden sips as well, dark brows arching with Evka’s inquiry as he sets his glass back down. “A little of it, yes,” he answers, pulling the somewhat large leather press toward him and tugging open then ties that secure it shut. “Just a few things I haven’t had mounted yet…” Carefully, almost gingerly, he parts the leather sides and uses his fingertips to separate pages with a light, whispering crackle of vellum and paper. One is selected and pulled forth, then held up over the table with his left hand. “This is one of the first I did when I arrived here.”

It’s clearly the sea, a sunset captured with high clouds blazing scarlet and orange, vermilion and pink, all blending seamlessly upward from where Rukbat sets to the cool wash of twilight blue at the upper cusp of the page. “I think I mentioned I like working in watercolor. Skies are the best for it. In my opinion, at least.” He peers somewhat sidelong at the brownrider, attentive to her reception of it.

Taking the painting gingerly, Evka lets her eyes roam over the colors, a bit of joy lighting up her face. Typical Zingari woman, color takes the cake. Gently, she runs a finger over the scarlet and vermilion areas, eyes lingering over the oranges and pinks. “This is beautiful.” She comments, eyes taking in the subtle ombre of the sunset, the way the colors blend seamlessly. One last look is given before she hands the painting back. “You have a talent, Brayden, and an eye for color. Your love for the medium shows.”

Evka sips from her whiskey, eyes now wandering over Brayden’s form, lingering most on his eyes and hands. “The rest must be just as beautiful.” She waves a hand at his folio. “I’m tempted to make an offer on that one, my weyr could use more color. That is, if you’d be willing to part with it.” And she’s serious, the colors in that sunset had spoken to her.

Brayden finds himself well-rewarded in the way Evka admires his painting, though he also winds up blushing with his struggle to avoid being self-deprecating. “I do love it. Not as much as singing, but…it is relaxing, and the best way I can think to capture certain moments,” he says as he slips the sunset back into the folio. Her interest in actually acquiring it brings about a little grin. “I am quite willing to part with it…and for you, I would do so for free. As a gift.” He finally picks up on the fact that she’s studying him and holds her gaze, the emerald among the brown in his eyes glinting subtly with the heat that remains at the ready there. “I am…entertaining an idea, however. One I hope you might like.”

Evka is warmed by the way Brayden speaks of his craft, and amused now, at both of their tendencies to blush. However, pure shock washes across her features when he offers his work for free. Sitting a bit straighter in her chair, her gaze sharpens on him. “I couldn’t…. It’s too beautiful a piece, really, I should give you something for it.” She is distracted however, by Brayden’s last and there’s an answering glint in her mocha brown eyes. Curiosity wins over all and she wonders. “And what might that be?”

There’s a look of knowing amusement that crosses Brayden’s features at Evka’s insistence that she should give him something in return for his painting, but he doesn’t answer it right away. “That would be,” he answers, leaning forward to settle his forearms on the table as he holds her gaze, “that, since you speak of it so fondly, I will make a trip to Igen and find a desert sunset to paint for you. So that you might always have it on your wall to gaze at when you find yourself missing it. As for giving me something…” His hand turns palm-up on the table between them, silently requesting hers. “I consider tonight more than enough compensation for any piece of art you might wish.”

Evka is beyond flattered as she gives her hand to the Harper, and she can add flabbergasted to the list of emotions running through her at the moment. He’s sweet, and seemingly genuine. And Brayden’s revelation that he wants to paint the desert beauty for her is touching, and she feels undeserving after only having known him for a day thus far. Her face flushes a bright red and she dips her head, gaze dropping. “You are far too kind Brayden, thank you. But I don’t understand why. We barely know each other.” She peeks up at him from under her lashes, old anxieties welling up a bit though she desperately beats them down, trying to gain control of herself. Why should this make her upset?

Is she upset? Really? No. Perhaps a little uncomfortable with having such attention heaped upon her after a few turns of celibacy broken only by the flight Saetyroith won. But why? What does he see that she cannot? And would he stay if he knew everything? Perhaps that is it, he seems too nice to have to deal with her damaged luggage. But she also wants to see where this might lead…she’s been alone for so long.

Not completely alone. She’ll never be truly alone with Saetyroith by her side. But, she’s missed this. Missed having a person to look forward to seeing. And beside En’rys, she’s never really had a real relationship. Bonifas had been puppy love. En’rys had been real love shattered. Is it possible to have something again? Even if this doesn’t go far, it’s nice to have her heart skip a beat at the thought of someone again, nice to be adored, nice to be present and have someone notice. And it’s damn nice to have things stirring hotly in her that have been cold and dormant for far too long.

Brayden feels a subtle, tingling warmth spread through his fingers as Evka’s hand comes to rest in his. What she voices, however, is something he’s very much aware of, and there’s a soft, almost rueful chuckle that answers it before he winds up observing the turning of her thoughts behind those wonderfully warm eyes. “Well…let me explain myself a bit,” he murmurs, his fingers curling gently around hers and his eyes resting upon their hands as he pauses to align his train of thought before it leaves his tongue.

“I am…a man whose passions sit very near the surface. It’s been my greatest asset as a performer, and also my greatest embarrassment in everyday life at times. Not long ago, I was trying to become a stoic, essentially, because I was told I wore my emotions too much on my sleeve. But when I began having success doing that…I suddenly lost someone I cared for quite deeply. And they never knew it.” Broad shoulders hitch upward subtly, and he peers up at Evka once more. “I vowed I would never let that happen again. That I wouldn’t apologize for feeling as deeply as I’m able. But…I do know that it can be off-putting for some people, to be presented with such things so plainly. Dancing around matters can create far too much pain and regret, however, and I would rather spare others and myself any of that.”

He clasps her hand in both of his now, his lips curving into another warm smile as he studies her eyes. “When I first saw you today…it was as though I was seeing all the beauty of a sunrise come to life in one person. I cannot explain it, but there is a beauty in that mystery, I think. The mystery of being drawn to someone without the words for why coming right away. I find you most alluring, Evka…and if saying so is too much for tonight, then I do beg your forgiveness. I just…cannot help myself.”

His smile is almost sheepish now, his cheeks nearly feverish with his confession. “The reason I want to paint for you, or give you something I already have painted…well. Beyond finding you incredibly attractive, I feel that…there’s a sort of kindred spirit about you. Maybe it’s your dance, or your love of color…or maybe it’s more. I should very much like to discover what else it could be. But only if you’d like to explore as much as I.”

He lifts her hand to his lips then, pressing them softly against the back just above her knuckles. “I am in no hurry, nor do I want you to feel pressured. I simply wish you to know that my interest is genuine.”

What a way with words.

Evka should have expected it, Harpers do have a way with turning a phrase after all. Brayden's silver tongue earns him a litany of blushes from Evka, who finds herself becoming just as curious about the man as he is about her. Still feeling a little awkward, she tries desperately to get her thoughts in line while Brayden talks and is both flattered and emboldened when he lifts his hand to brush his lips to her knuckles. A funny little nervous laugh escapes her as tingles warm and welcome creep their way up Evka's arm, a light pattern of gooseflesh rising in their wake. Later, when she's alone, she'll have plenty of time to wonder what made such a silly sound come out if her, but for now she simply feels as if the time has come to put up or shut up, now's her chance to take a leap of faith and hope she lands squarely on the ground.

“I am glad of it, Harper Brayden.” She says of his interest being genuine, “I too would like to explore this…whatever it may be.” She sounds breathy towards the end, dreamy, as if imagining things, and perhaps she is.

That little laugh from Evka has Brayden’s features quirking into an expression of momentary bemusement before settling into a smile once more. He keeps her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze when she admits to wanting to explore things with him in turn. “Then…I have had something of a similar effect?” he ventures, the glittering in his eyes betraying his enjoyment of the prospect. “Just Brayden will do, my lady. Unless calling me ‘Harper’ becomes something of an endearment. That, I might just live with.”

“Something like that…” Evka replies to Brayden’s first, her eyes catching the glittering in his and responding with one of their own. Evka laughs at Brayden’s next. “Careful Harper. It just might become my favorite way of addressing you.” She’s teasing of course, though now she might just have to see how many times she can get away with it. Silence falls and she uses the excuse to drink from her whiskey tumbler and snag another piece of cheese.

Brayden arches a brow, a distinct hint of mischief edging the tilted bit of a grin he gives her now. “Careful, brownrider. I just might like it,” he counters, sitting back and loosening his hold on her hand. He lets his fingers trail over the back of it before he goes after his own whiskey and then goes after some food of his own. The second appetizer he’d ordered comes not long after that, and he immediately goes after it, being that it’s more along the lines of hot food. The menu to the side is eyed but not pulled over to read just yet. “Will you tell me of your people, Evka?” he asks, settling forward onto his forearms again. “This caravan that made a trader and a dancer out in the midst of the desert.”

Evka aims a smirk in Brayden’s direction, and looks delighted when the next bit of food arrives. Evka tries some of that too, humming with delight at the more savory element to the meal. “What would you know?” She asks of him, a brow quirking in question before she pops a grape into her mouth from the fruit and cheese tray. “It’s a vast, near unending topic, the Zingari. We come in many skins from many places.” The sister clans are far and wide spread, even with their smaller numbers these days. “Would you like to know about our culture? Or what we sell? Or our sordid history?” There’s a reason the Zingari are labeled ‘mysterious’, one never knows which tales about them are true.

“The Zingari,” Brayden echoes, a hand lifting so that a finger taps lightly on his cheek. “I have heard the name, as well as about their flair. ‘Purveyors of entertainment,’ I once heard them called, but clearly that is not all that defines them.” To her last, he laughs, a low, rich thrum of sound that sets his eyes to dancing anew. “I am a Harper, my lady. I would know all of it. But it need not all come out tonight, of course. We have time. At least, that is my hope.” He takes another sip of his whiskey, downs some of the flatbread and dip, takes a moment to study her once more, unabashed in his admiration now. “I think…something of the culture would be fascinating to start with. A glimpse of the world that surrounded you for so long.”

Evka chuckles. “Aye, we’re a riotous lot when it comes to a good performance. We have old blood, have been roaming for four centuries, generation after generation. Once a rather old fashioned set, now turning a new leaf, becoming a bit more…progressive. We’re rumoured to be a superstitious lot, full of suspicion and mystery. Our history and customs are as complicated and tightly bound as a sailor’s knot, full of color and drama.”

Taking a breath and warming to her topic, Evka continues, falling into the cadence of the storytellers. “Our hierarchy is changing, but each caravan is a clan, each clan has a name and leader with the original clan being the central of all clans and my old leader, is the leader of all Zingari, the leader of leaders, her blood the fount of our people’s blood. We used to have a system of elders and matriarchs, but the old ways have fallen and our leader takes the modern world like a storm. We are vibrant, colourful, full of passion and a love of all the arts.”

Evka doesn’t know if she even does her people justice, such a vast and rich history and culture is embodied there. Here, she takes a break for nibbles and drink, her eyes returning the luxurious and slow look over Brayden had been giving her just moments before.

Brayden can’t help but grin at some of Evka’s descriptors. When she falls into that storyteller’s rhythm, he can’t help but be even more appreciative. The beginnings of the world she’s started to weave for him are enough to bring him to a decision after a few moments. “I was clearly born in the wrong setting,” he says with a chuckle. “I would love to visit them at some point and see it all firsthand. All the more reason to find time for a trip to Igen.”

His cheeks do color somewhat beneath her scrutiny, but her returns her gaze steadily. Invitingly. “You carry a storied lineage to you. The suspicion and mystery… Is it because your people were insular for so long, keeping away from Hold and Hall?” Absently, he tugs the menu closer, just in case something more substantial is wanted. The two appetizers he’d arranged for seem to be plenty for him, however. He is quite enraptured with his company, not seeming to need substantially more than what is already there.

Evka grins, taking down the last of her whiskey. “Aye, a trip might definitely be in order. Everyone should experience a night amongst the throng, if you ask my opinion on it.” As to Brayden’s next, she nods. “Aye, with the absence of Thread, we roamed far and wide, and became our own entity. It was a tragedy when Thread returned, none of us ready for it. We’re more integrated now, more reliant on the Weyrs and holds and cots along the roads.” Evka seems to be alright with the food present and doesn’t give any indication she’d like more, though she does flag the waiter down to refill her glass. Her attention is immediately back on Brayden after she orders.

“And they’re welcoming of the Zingari, generally? Obviously Igen must be…” When the server swings by, Brayden quickly indicates he’d like a refill as well before homing in on Evka once more. “Is performance in the caravan a nightly affair, simply part of the way of life? Or are there dedicated times and places for it?”

“Generally, yes, we bring in good commerce. Igen is home to the mother clan and our leader has always had a bit of a way with Igen Weyrleadership.” Evka chuckles at his last and explains. “With the mother clan, performances are offered five nights out of seven, and gathers are much larger affairs, generally moved to the hold, though sometimes held at the Weyr. With the traveling clans, it all depends on where they are on what night.”

Brayden is quietly awed by the prospect of so much performance to be had over the course of a sevenday. “So it truly is a way of life. I have been far too long behind the Hall’s walls,” he declares, and sighs, plucking up some meat and cheese with a cracker to pop into his mouth. He takes that time to continue his admiration of her, his head tilting a little as he swallows. “Do you still dance at all? Or has that fallen by the wayside, being away from the caravan and Impressing and whatnot? If it is not too sensitive a thing to speak of,” he adds, realizing that there is likely a touch of melancholy to the matter.

Evka can’t help but grin when Brayden speaks, he just pulls the smiles out of her. “Aye, it is.” She shakes her head at his suggestion that he’s been sequestered far too long. “When the crafters come to see if any of our children would like to enter apprenticeship, they explain the crafts to us a bit. Becoming a Harper is no easy task, you should give yourself more credit.” She’s taking a sip of her refill when he asks after her dancing and she doesn’t seem too perturbed by the question. “Sometimes. Not nearly as often as I would like, but I still dance, and I still practice my other skills as well, though I have to admit I let the healer’s training slide to the wayside a bit. I’ve no interest in being a dragon healer.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining about my Craft. I am immensely proud of what I am,” Brayden says, casually leaning to his left to stick his fingers into his folio again. “But I haven’t traveled as much as some other Journeymen. I’ve done more administrative work than performance, which is where my heart truly lies…though I hardly had a choice, to be fair. Injury will do that to a person.” Something he doesn’t elaborate on for the moment; he’s now distracted with pulling out another piece of art. This one is a sizeable sketch depicting Healers at work with various herbs. “Would you not have a choice in the matter, were you to keep up with the healing?” he asks, mildly perplexed. “Surely you wouldn’t be forced into dragonhealing if you weren’t interested.”

Evka’s curiosity is piqued when Brayden mentions being injured, and she’s left hanging when he chooses not to elaborate. But like Brayden, she won’t pry, it’s not polite. “I have every choice in the matter, particularly because I studied alternative medicines to the craft’s and my patients were human, not animal. But still, they do nudge those with healing experience to give it a shot. There’s not a whole lot of them around.” She glances down when Brayden begins thumbing through his portfolio and pulls the healer’s image from it. Her eyes dance over whatever she can see of the work before lifting to lock with the Harper’s again.

Their fresh glasses of whiskey arrive after a few moments, the server quick in his departure when he sees that they seem to be just fine with the food they have. “Ahhh, so crafts are practiced among the Zingari, but not necessarily in the same manner taught by the Halls.” He gives another little grin. “I should very much like to hear Zingari music, in that case. The education is superb, but often…stuffy.” He slips the sketch back into the folio and then tugs another painting free, this one of a mountain sunrise filtering through a forest of skybrooms. “Not as much color here as the sunset,” he notes as he holds it closer for her to inspect. “I find it harder to paint sunrises, particularly in the mountains. I haven’t quite figured out why.”

“Aye, we begin learning a trade young, and graduate to adulthood between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. There’s a variety of trades to choose from, Performance roles, weaving, healing, glass work, jewelry, fortune telling, runner breeding, cooking, the list goes on.” She leaves out that the Zingari also train specialized spies. She grins in truth when he mentions Zingari music. “Smart man. Zingari music is passion given life, sultry, exotic, spicy, like our curry.” She chuckles, feeling a bit silly at her choice in words, but it’s out already.

Taking the next piece of art Brayden offers, Evka examines it, and still with a good amount of appreciation in her gaze. “Sunrises are softer, more pastel, they lack the richness and luster of a sunset. Both are beautiful, both static, yet ever-changing.” She gets lost in the line work of the painting, in the realism portrayed there, like she could step into it and be somewhere else. When she can eventually tear her eyes from it, she hands it back to Brayden with a soft smile. “You are quite talented, really. Your works are beautiful.”

“Or perhaps…like their women?” Brayden ventures with a smirk, letting some of the banked heat in his eyes spark forth for a moment. But Evka is studying his work again, praising it enough to make his cheeks heat again, and he chuckles softly. “Quite astute of you,” he says of her comparison of sunrises and sunsets. “I shall continue working on using a more subtle pallet for those.” He puts the painting away and knocks back more of his whiskey than he means to, causing his entire face to heat and his eyes to water. Clearing his throat, he gives her a sheepish smile for his misstep. “Thank you, Evka. Oof…” He runs the back his wrist across his forehead. “I might need some air after than one.”

Brayden’s first makes Evka a twin to him, her features blossoming into a heated shade of rose, aided by the whiskey. She giggles a little when the Harper ingests more whiskey in one gulp than he ought. When he mentions needing some air, Evka knocks back her own whiskey like a champ and nods. “A walk sounds nice. Do you want to go then?”

Again Brayden chuckles, giving a bit of a nod and shoving his fingers through his hair. “That would be lovely. Just give me one moment…” Rising, he pulls the folio with him and lays it flat on a nearby table. It’s far more flexible than it looks, and he soon has it rolled into a cylinder and secured with a couple of leather ties. He slings it over his back by a strap, then holds out his hand to Evka to help her to her feet. “Whiskey seems as familiar as an old friend to you,” he notes, and smirks again. “It is to me as well, believe it or not. Just…the sort of old friend who’ll play pranks on you every now and then.”

Evka gathers her own things while Brayden rolls up his folio and gladly takes his hand when he offers it. Standing, she chuckles. “Aye. It’s another thing the Zingari are famous for, our whiskey. That northern whiskey we were just drinking is from my caravan. There’s another rider in Southern that has a taste for the stuff and the Sr Weyrwoman is Zingari too.” And Evka’s best friend. But one thing at a time here. “And aye, whiskey is a fickle mistress sometimes.” She grins and waits for Brayden to lead the way.

Brayden’s brows arch a bit higher when he learns that the whiskey was from the Zingari, and he nods approvingly as he slips Evka’s arm through his. “I will keep that in mind, should I ever seek an audience with her,” he says to the fact that the Weyrwoman is also Zingari. He leads them to the door and shoulders it open, holding it to allow Evka to pass out into the cooler evening air first. After that, he moves them out beyond the dim pool of light emanating from around the swinging door, peering down at her with a small smile curving his lips. “Which way shall we go? Up?” He gestures toward the stairs leading up to the garden terrace. “Or perhaps back toward the beach? Or another direction entirely?”

Evka looks thoughtful when asked which way they should go, and the beach is was snags her. A walk on the beach, at night? Sounds like date material to her! “The beach sounds wonderful.” She’ll even begin steering them that way, a contented smile left on her lips.

As Evka makes her preference obvious, Brayden can’t help but smile as he lengthens his stride slightly until he’s even with her again. “I haven’t been there at night,” he admits as they pass into the short tunnel marking the Weyr entrance. “All things considered, I think it’s fitting.”

The Beach

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An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.

They finally pass through the entrance and out onto the road, following it through the clearing and down toward the boardwalk. The air is on the warm side of mild but vastly more tolerable than what they faced during the day. The thicker air makes the stars flicker rather dramatically overhead as lingering heat rises and ripples the air. The smell and sound of the gentle surf starts to waft up to them upon the breeze with an ever-loudening whisper. “So,” he asks eventually, his voice pitched low for her, as though there might be other ears nearby, “how does this feel, my lady Evka? Strange? Comfortable? A mix of different things?”

Evka rather enjoys the short walk to the beach and when they arrive, she slips her sandals off to walk the beach barefooted. She slips her free arm around Brayden’s and smiles with a little nervous laugh when he voices his query. “All of the above?” She tucks her hair behind her ear with the hand holding her sandals and then goes on to elaborate. “I can certainly tell you it is not uncomfortable. I have quite enjoyed myself this evening. You are easy to build a rapport with, I find.”

She’s quiet for a moment as they walk along, eyes staring out at the first velvety touches of night falling on her surroundings. “How are you feeling?” Evka asks in return a moment later, mocha brown eyes turning towards the Harper.

There’s a soft chuckle in counterpoint to the laugh Evka utters, and Brayden’s arm tightens upon hers for a moment in agreement. “I’m glad,” he murmurs to her first. “I can say the same, honestly.” His smile broadens in the wake of her question, and his steps slow as she looks his way. “About this?” He drifts to a stop, his hand finding hers as he turns to face her squarely. “…Hopeful. Warm. Nervous and happy all at once. I haven’t…tried this in some Turns. But as I said, I am drawn, Evka.” His other hand comes up, gingerly and gently tucking a bit of hair back behind her ear. “I’d like to do this again. To keep exploring with you.”

There’s a smile to make a girl melt and Evka can’t help but widen her own in response. His answer to her question is received with warm acceptance and she turns her face into his hand when he tucks her hair behind her ear, cheeks now warmed thoroughly by the whiskey. “I think I’m amenable to that.” She replies softly, eyes looking softly at the Harper.

Brayden’s smile widens briefly into a beaming grin in the darkness, toning back a bit as he answers. “I’m pleased to hear it,” he answers, a soft huskiness edging his voice. There’s an air of pointed attentiveness about him, gauging every nuance he can about her reactions to him, trying to discern just what will happen depending on which path his instincts lead him on. He watches her quietly, the hand that had come up to her hair settling lightly against her cheek as his eyes hold fast to hers. He can feel his pulse start to race ahead, heating his cheeks again bit by bit. She had said that fate favors the bold…and in the end, he decides to follow that. He moves slowly, affording her every moment to move away from him if she wishes as he tilts his head to hers, his end goal quite obvious.

Evka’s heart skips a beat or three at the husky tone in in Brayden’s voice, and it continues to do so now and again with the way he studies her. It picks up speed when she realizes what his goal is, but she too, is feeling bold and she meets him halfway, her lips pressing to his as her hands land gently on his chest. The contact sends a rush of tingles running through her, shocks of anticipation and excitement infusing her with a confident energy. And somewhere, on some ledge, Saetyroith is a smug, smug brown.

Brayden is beyond relieved when Evka moves to meet him in the kiss, his chest relaxing in a gentle sigh beneath her hands. Soft but decisive, his lips meet hers with a surge of elated warmth that soon becomes a simmering heat that he has to immediately tighten the reins on. His other hand drops to her waist, guiding her closer in the midst of the kiss until their bodies are touching.

He pauses for breath, drawing back just enough to find her eyes in the scant starlight shrouding them and all else. “I think we should do more of this, too,” he opines, his voice pulled down into full huskiness now as he seeks her lips again, still decisive, but no less sweet…and in absolutely no rush.

Evka moves easily into Brayden’s close embrace, melting slightly against him in the process. Her eyes, when he finds them are half-hooded and dreamy, and his words prompt a slow, coy smile from the woman before he’s kissing her again. She returns his affections, hands eventually sliding up so that she might drape her arms around his neck. She appreciates the slow burn of this, the simmering heat that curls to life within her, stretching its long unused tendrils to warm the blood in her veins. It’s a perfect moment, one that she’ll likely never forget.

A slow burn is precisely what Brayden feels in turn, lean-muscled arms gradually sliding around the lithe frame now stretched against him as things deep within that have been dormant for far too long rouse and awaken, coming to pleased attention. A soft, low bit of a moan vibrates in his throat as he begins to take the kiss deeper, venturing a taste of her lips with an exploratory glide of his tongue.

After another interminable stretch, he pulls in another breath. “Evka…” His fingers slide back into her hair, gently pulling through as he searches for her eyes again. “You remember that I said…my passions run very close to the surface. I don’t…want to do too much…or scare you away…”

Evka opens to Brayden’s explorations quite easily, daring a few of her own. The moan he emits sends a shiver down her spine. She’s gasps softly when the lock of their lips breaks and looks up at Brayden with a shaky inhalation of air. She does take about half a moment to make her decision and she squares her heated gaze on Brayden, taking a bit of her own advice and perhaps emboldened by support from her brown, she replies simply: “I’m not scared Harper.”

Another slow smile curves Brayden’s lips in the wake of Evka’s answer. “Then perhaps…it is I who am scared of making the wrong move,” he says, stealing one more gentle kiss. “Forgive the caution of a Craftbred man. Or else just that of someone finding his rhythm again.” He gives a slow, deep sigh, his hand spreading over her back and drawing her closer against the solid stretch of his frame. “What shall we make of tonight, then, my lady? Some more time here, like this…learning slowly under the stars until sleep summons us to our respective homes? Or…a little more time here…and then the night shared somewhere more comfortable?”

Evka would probably forgive much at this point, Brayden’s made it a night to remember and thus far she has no regrets. Of course, this means that Saetyroith will be an insufferable gloat for a few days, taking credit for pushing Evka to accept the date. It’s a good thing dragons forget things so easily. The Harper’s double edged question has Evka pausing, thoughts a jumble for a split second, but then she pushes them aside and goes with what feels right in the moment and smiles. “I think the latter sounds amazing.” And with that she’ll steal her own kiss, boldness overtaking any nervousness she may be feeling.

In truth, despite how much Brayden may want it, Evka’s reply is actually not the one he was expecting. It catches him off guard, leaving him breathless in the midst of their kiss. His arms tighten further, melding her body to his and letting him begin to feel the entirety of her with his whole frame. His head spins a bit, his breath going shallow as he parts their lips to catch it. “…Truly?” he whispers against her mouth, pulling back to find her eyes for just a moment. “Not a complaint, mind you, but…I have not moved so swiftly in a direction that feels so right before.” And it does feel right, so right that it’s knocked any Craftbred reservations he might have been having firmly to the side.

By the time their lips part, Evka is a bit breathy herself. Brayden isn't the only one caught off guard by just how right this feels. “Aye, truly, we are in much the same position, this feels so… perfect.” And Evka's letting her instinct do the talking at this point, shutting down any reservations her own mind might dig up. Perhaps he'll even agree to come up to her weyr, though she wants him to know she's sure first, and saves the question for the moment.

Brayden can’t help the little grin of agreement that brightens his features before he dips his head to exact another kiss, this one deeper and slower still. He lets it warm him through, lets the feel of Evka against him set his nerves to humming as he lets the reality of what’s to come sink in. He isn’t afraid by any means, just…extremely wary of making a mess of things. Yet she is making it plain that she’s amenable to being with him, and it’s an incredibly bolstering thing. “Where would you like to go?” he questions softly, keeping her close against him until there absolutely must be a move made to get wherever they’re going.

Evka sinks into the press of Brayden's kiss, the slow burn of their contact warming her as thoroughly as the heat beginning to flare to life inside her. “If you would like, we could go to my weyr.” Her tone is a little nervous, and still a bit breathy. Thus far very few have been inside her inner sanctum, and it’s a big step inviting someone back for intimate reasons. But she feels good about it nonetheless. “You’d get to meet Saetyroith in truth, I hope you don’t mind a dragon ride?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Brayden answers, a hand drifting down her arm to find hers. “And considering your lifemate was a bit preoccupied with dolphins last time, it would be an honor to meet him as well.” He loosens his hold to let her do whatever she must in preparation but doesn’t move away, keeping hold of her hand.

It takes Evka but mere seconds to summon her wine stained brown, who has been near eagerly awaiting such a request. And it's barely a moment more before said brown emerges from the void of ::between:: and begins a lazy drift towards the ground. Evka herself looks pleased and excited, the adrenaline running now that plans are truly set to motion. Saetyroith looks dark against the deep blue of the night sky and makes a deeper shadow still against the sand of the beach when he lands. Evka retrieves the sandals she'd dropped during the exploratory session with Brayden and begins moving towards Saetyroith, the Harper's hand held firmly along the way.

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